Choosing
by Pentangle-linnon
Summary: Aragorn, Legolas, Elrond, Elrohir, Elladan. A young Aragorn loses and wins, wins and loses.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: Choosing**

Author: Pentangle

Summary: A young Aragorn wins and loses, loses and wins.

Characters: Aragorn, Legolas, Elrond, Elrohir, Elladan

Rating: K+

A/N Aragorn has been raised with Elrond as his father and the twins as his brothers. He has known Legolas since he was small.

Thank you to my beta Celebwen

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**Chapter 1**

Elrond, Lord of Imladris, stood in the doorway of the dining hall. "Where is Estel? He cannot have eaten breakfast and left already. Not today." The other members of his family looked up and shook their heads or shrugged.

"Your pardon, Adar," said a quiet voice behind him. Elrond turned about and lifted the famous eyebrow. His youngest entered the hall and Elrond's was not the only eyebrow to rise. Estel walked quietly (for him), his movements smooth and controlled (for him), and bowed slightly to those present.

"Good morning my brothers, and Lords Glorfindel and Erestor; I am sorry if I am late."

Glorfindel looked him up and down. The lanky body—which had just shot up another two inches, seemingly overnight—was clothed in its normal outdoor wear of tunic, leggings and boots. This morning something was different, however. He mused quietly to Erestor, "Is there anything quite so terrifying as a young limb of Sauron, neat, pressed, and polite?"

Erestor murmured back, "My blood is frozen in my veins."

Elrond came up behind Estel and laid a firm hand on his shoulder and declaimed dramatically, "Where is my son and what have you done with him? He is dear to me and if any harm…"

The dignity slipped a little. "Oh, Ada! You always say that anytime I – "

" – am not actually bleeding or covered in pond slime?" broke in Elladan. Elrohir frowned at him.

"Peace, brother, can you not see? This is the new, _older_ Estel. The mature one who is now 13 and no doubt shaved this morning. The one that we had some sort of appointment with…we were going somewhere…I can not seem to recall…_was_ it today?"

Estel seemed to quiver all over and then his control broke. He began to dance and spin about the room, arms outstretched, caroling, "Yes! Yes! Yes! It is today, today! TODAY!"

Glorfindel pulled out the chair next to him and the boy collapsed into it laughing and dizzy.

The Eldar pulled him into a brief hug. "Many happy returns of the day, youngling." The others chorused the same.

"When will you go?" questioned Elrond.

Elladan swallowed half a muffin and replied. "I was thinking after arms practice. Oh! Except you asked me to get more of the blue clay today; that will take three or four hours. And then I have to go check the wheat for rust and –"

"If you are _quite_ finished teasing me…" sniffed Estel.

"Very well! We leave as soon as Elrohir and I finish breakfast."

" Which we _cannot_ (choke) do (cough) with your arms so tight (gasp) around our necks!" Estel stood between the twins, hugging both with joy.

"You are the _best_ of brothers! Now, let's GO!" Plates abandoned, the three left the hall together with Estel dancing backwards, urging his brothers to greater haste.

Glorfindel smiled at the departing brothers. "It is a very important day in the life of any warrior."

Erestor looked at Elrond. "Do you think it will go well?"

"Why should it not?"

"Elrond – he is human; it may not go as he has heard from his friends and brothers. In fact, I doubt it can. I have spoken of my concerns before – but you have not heeded me."

"Elrohir has a plan to make it work."

"That somehow leaves me uncomforted."

Elrond sighed. "Now that the day has come, I, too, have concerns. But Elrohir's plan may work, enough to give an illusion. Perhaps I have made a mistake, but I was simply unable to face explaining it to him in the ardor of his anticipation. And if worse comes to worst-"

"And it will!"

"- then we will just select one for him."

"It will not be the same and no one will know it more than he."

Glorfindel interrupted quietly, "We will hope for the best and prepare for the worst. By sundown we will know which we are dealing with."

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Three brothers made their way up the cliff path to the plateau above Imladris. Two rode and one walked along at the stirrup of the leader. "Why must I walk? Take me up behind you!"

"It is only because of our great kindness that we let you hold on to my stirrup leather. It is always thus on this day – you must walk until you are Chosen – you may not ride."

From behind them, Elrohir laughed, "I like this arrangement, Elladan. There are entire minutes when he is too out of breath to speak!"

Estel glowered and trudged on, using the stirrup to help pull him along. However, he could not remain angry (or silent) for long on this day, and his questions began anew.

"How long will it take for you and Elrohir to - "

"There is no way to know for certain; an hour, perhaps three; it depends how far they have gone since the dawn."

"Male or female?"

"Do I know? You will have to accept what comes, even as all have before you." Elladan cast a quick, worried glance at Elrohir behind him. His brother smiled back, but when he looked at Estel his lips tightened with resolve. They would make it work. They must make it happen for him. Perhaps not as it had for them, but well enough. Snatches of memory assailed him and he felt again his little brother's pain. Why can I not climb as well as you? Why do I get sick? Why can I not talk to the trees? Why must I die?

It was a constant refrain, sung in either anguish or anger, with every year bringing new verses. And perhaps, in spite of their love, their plans, their best efforts, the sorrowful lay would be longer this night than it had been this morning.

Estel's impatient voice broke into his worried thoughts. "I _said_, what color is best?"

"Are you that selective? I did not know you would refuse a color you do not favor!"

"That is not what I meant!"

Elladan laughed and reached down to severely ruffle his little brother's hair. "Look there, Estel."

Estel lifted his eyes from the dust his feet were kicking up to see that they were almost at the top of the cliff. Soon! Very soon!

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Estel stood on the top of a small rise on the plain that ran to the edge of the valley cliffs. He listened with painful intensity to his brother's instructions.

"You will stay here until we return or until you feel there is danger, _of any sort_, understand? If you do feel there might be _any kind_ of danger, you will run like a hare to the cliff path – it is just behind you a short distance. Then home."

"I understand. If danger, run to the cliff path. Otherwise, wait."

His earnestness made Elladan's lips twitch ever so slightly. "When we come up with the Unchosen, you will crouch down and call them. You can sing or speak, it matters not. When the one that is for you steps toward you, wait until he comes and touches you, then you may slowly rise. Do you have the cake? Good. Keep it in your shirt until they are very near. When you stand, you will go through the choosing ritual. Do not make any sudden moves and speak softly. Feed it the cake. Elrohir and I will be with you and guide you through the next steps."

"I will do just as you say. Oh, Elladan, I can not bear it! I am so excited. I am afraid my heart's beating will frighten them it is so loud!"

Elrohir stepped close, leading his horse. He fingers drew a quick caress from Estel's brow to cheek. "Gently, gently! Your wait is almost over." He hesitated and looked away into the distance. He opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again.

"Is something wrong, Elrohir?"

Elrohir smiled warmly, but with a little trouble in his eyes. "It is nothing…just…." He took the chin below him firmly in hand and looked into the sparkling eyes. "We love you. We would do anything to ensure your happiness. Do you know this?"

"Yes, I do know it, Elrohir. And I love you both with all that I am. But why do you speak so to me now? As if something bad were about to happen…."

Elladan cut in as he remounted his horse, "Nothing bad will happen. We merely want you to know how happy we are to be here with you. To share this day with you." And then added to himself, "to protect you if we can."

Elrohir and Elladan loped away across the plain and Estel sat down cross-legged to wait for their return. His trembling fingers felt for the hundredth time to see if the cake he had made three days ago was safe. He worked his fingers beneath his tunic and then his shirt to feel its rough texture. Made from oats and honey, a very little flour, some anise and Glorfindel's 'secret ingredient,' he had worn it against his skin that it might partake of his scent. He would present it to the one who would shortly choose him, as a seal to a newly-made bond. He thought back to the day Legolas (how he wished he could be here today!) had told him how he was first Chosen by Goldolphin. Estel had waited his _whole_ _life_ for this day. He could hardly believe that it was truly here.

Estel broke from his reverie and tensed. Was it – he held his breath and listened, taut as a bow-string. There! He didn't hear it; he _felt_ it! A slight, ever so slight trembling in the ground. They were coming!

And now he could hear them, as well. The drumming grew louder until he finally saw them in the distance. They rapidly grew in his vision until they slowed and halted, about a hundred feet away. There were at least twenty-five, all young. There were many colors, although mostly dapples and roans since the elves valued them for their ability to blend into the forest. Elladan and Elrohir rode around the edges of the group, keeping them together, and close to Estel. Suddenly one broke free and ran toward the trees that clothed the edge of the cleft guarding Imladris. He was black and smaller and slighter than the rest. Elrohir cantered to head him back to the group, but Elladan called him off.

"Never mind that one. He should have been culled long ago – he will not do for a warrior."

Elrohir turned his attention back to the serious business at hand. "Go ahead, Estel."

The man-child slowly rose to his haunches and held out one hand, cupped and open. He began to speak softly. "Come, my beauty. Come, my own. Come, and I will love you. Come, and we will fly together. Ah, how my heart has longed for you. My ponies are outgrown, and they do not choose as your kind do. Choose me, and I will care for you all your days. We will have great adventures, you and I. Ah, please come to me, wind and smoke, fire and pride. Please…." His voice continued, with all the passion one young and often lonely boy's heart could feel. His speaking changed to a lovely song, marred only here and there by a youth's breaking voice.

Some of those hearing raised their heads, but none came out toward him. Elladan and Elrohir moved closer in their circle, pressing a little, hoping that the jostling would cause one or two to step in Estel's direction – even if they were not 'called'. For this was their fear. That only elves could call the horses that were bred for generations to work and live with the Firstborn. They doubted he could be truly Chosen and so they had practiced for a week at subtly working the herd so that one would 'happen' to move forward from the rest.

"Come. _Please_ heed me. Come, one to match my spirit. Be _mine_, I beg." Now on a soft sob, "I beg you. I _beg. The outstretched hand shook from strain and finally sank to the ground. For the first time, Estel looked to his brothers. He whispered, "What am I doing wrong – help me."_

Elladan muttered savagely, riding among the herd, "Stupid beasts! You do not know what love you deny, what heart you are breaking! Move UP there, and go to him!" But the horses only milled about, becoming restless now, and trying to return to the plain.

Finally, the twins could hold them no longer and they broke away in twos and threes, until they were all gone.

Estel stood and watched as they disappeared. It is hardly possible to imagine a more forlorn figure. Elrohir and Elladan dismounted, giving their steeds jaundiced looks. They were none to happy with horses in general at the moment. Elladan walked to Estel and tentatively touched his shoulder. "Estel?"

Eyes with all the pain only youth can feel turned to his elder brother. His voice barely made it past the tightness in chest and throat. The desolation in it tore at Elladan's heart. "Why? Why would none come to me? Why was I not Chosen? I called with all my heart…"

"Estel, I am so sorry. We hoped so very much this would not happen."

"Then you thought it might…You _know_ why I was not Chosen." An ugly suspicion, hardly a new one in this young man's life, pulled the band around his heart tighter.

"It appears—and no, we were not sure at all, we have never heard of a human going before the Unchosen before—that only elves – "

"Of course! Only elves! Always and ever: only elves! And I am not an elf! How many times must I have my nose rubbed in the fact that I am not an elf?" He started walking angrily away, dashing shameful tears from his face.

"Estel…wait! We will choose one for you—the very best one of all."

"It will not be the same! It will be no different than my ponies! He will not match my spirit, nor I his!"

The twins ran after their brother, coming to a halt before him. "Estel, we must go home. I know you are grieved…but Ada and the others will be worried if we don't return before nightfall."

Estel's steely voice replied, "Yes. Ada, and Glorfindel, and..and everybody, are all waiting for me to come riding into the courtyard on my first real horse; my Chosen. Once again I will disappoint them. But that will not be a _great_ surprise; they have become accustomed to my inability to do ANYTHING the right way."

Elladan then proceeded to stab himself with his own sword. "Estel, I know this is very difficult for you, but you _are_ at an age when men tend to over dramatize -"

The boy turned outraged eyes upon him. He then spun around and bolted for the trees on the cliff edge. Elrohir looked disgustedly at Elladan. "I do believe that if you thought with both hands for a fortnight, you could not have come up with a more inflammatory thing to say."

"Ai! I am seven kinds of fool. I was just so _sure_ we could get one of those spawns of Mordor to take one, just ONE, step towards him! It worked over and over when we practiced!" He turned a strained face to his brother and whispered, "My poor Estel. Did you see his eyes when the last one ran back to the plain? Although, I am surprised he can still feel anything as keenly as he does. He has had so many hurts piled one atop another….most men or _elves_ would have hardened their hearts against further pain long ago, with only cold ashes where once love burned within."

"Estel will not take that path. He is warmth itself. It makes him vulnerable as we well know." Elrohir sighed deeply. "Now, we had better decide what to do with him tonight."

"Leave him be. That copse is barely five acres in size. Let him cry his grief out in solitude. He will be safe enough there. One of us will stay and see that no harm comes to him and the other can let those at home know what has happened."

Elrohir nodded, "I think that is best. _I_ will go home and explain what has occurred; it was my idea that we should try to counterfeit a gift of the Valar, after all."

As his twin disappeared down the cliff trail, Elladan walked out further into the plain where he could get a good view of the approaches to the wood. He then sighed and settled into a sentry go to wait out the night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

In the woods, Estel had ended his run by slumping against a tree and sliding down the trunk. Gone was the well-groomed man-boy of the morning. Tears had mixed with the dust of the plain to make dirty snail tracks down his cheeks. He had torn his tunic _and_ his leggings on brush as he crashed to the center of the wood. His hair, sternly combed into submission earlier, had once again found its natural state. His sobs died away, leaving him with a grief that seemed much deeper than that usually felt by a disappointed boy. "Maybe I _am_ now a man," he thought dully, "for surely only a man's heart can hurt so much. A boy's is not big enough." He would normally, after such tempestuous feelings were spent, heave himself off the ground and head home for comfort. But this time his grief was too deep for a quick return to hugs, a bath, and a tuck into bed. Something inside seemed broken beyond repair.

Much later a sudden noise made him look up alertly. He might be miserable but he was not raised by warriors for nothing. He slowly reached for his boot dagger. He had ended up in a small clearing, and across from him was a large bush. At that moment a head thrust itself through the leafy branches – a long black head, topped with two small, prick ears, a dished profile and a dainty muzzle. The little horse that ran away! Estel looked up toward the sky with annoyance. "Thank you. It is not enough to be rejected by the entire herd of Unchosen, now I am going to be rejected by _the rejected_!" (He had not forgotten Elladan's scornful words about the little horse.) "Go away! Go on!" The head disappeared, and Estel felt, if anything, worse than before.

There was another rustling and the head appeared again, closer. Estel stood, and the horse shied off. But then his head appeared yet again, and he snorted, twice. Without stopping to think about what he was doing, Estel slowly sank onto his heels, and stretched out his hand.

"Come, my beauty. Come, my own. Come, and I will love you. Come, and we will fly together." The little horse pranced nervously. He took one step forward, then two back. Estel began to sing.

"Come, little black one. Come, fiery heart. Come, wild one; I will not tame you. Come, disdained one; I will cherish you." The horse stared at Estel. He raised, then lowered his head, as the boy continued his blandishments. He then walked carefully, as though solemnly, until he placed his muzzle in the outstretched hand. Estel slowly, so very slowly, rose to his feet. The little black horse placed his nose right against Estel's face. In a flash, the boy remembered Legolas' description. _We shared breath and I was Chosen_.

Estel drew a long, slow breath and then exhaled, through parted lips, a soft, sighing, "Ah." The horse breathed in deeply and then himself exhaled against Estel's mouth. Estel drew in the sweet breath, redolent of meadows. For long moments they stood as statues, tasting each other's life. Estel was struck through with awe and wonder. He was Chosen.

The spell was broken when the little horse drew away from Estel's face and began to nudge his chest. "Oh! The cake! That is supposed to be next, is it not?" The horse nudged again and he dug it out and crumbled it on his palm. The black muzzle quickly whuffled it away. Estel's hand caressed the neck of his new companion. "Shhhh, steady now, here we go…" He clambered up onto his new steed's back and was instantly bucked off.

"Ai!" Estel rubbed his backside as he slowly got to his feet. The horse stood, blinking mildly, making no move to get away. Estel moved cautiously to the horse's side again. "Did I do something wrong?" The horse rubbed his head against the boy's arm. "Well, let us try it again, then." Whish! Thump! "Ow!"

"We have a problem. How am I to ride you home in triumph when I cannot ride you at all?" Estel got to his feet again and circled the glade, thinking hard. Right behind him followed his new, albeit unrideable, friend.

The boy came to a conclusion. "All the Unchosen are supposed to be trained, but if no one thought you would be a warrior's horse, maybe you were not. Hmmmm." The circling and thinking continued. The horse gave up after a while and stood in the middle of Estel's circle, hipshot and dozing to the monologue.

"Well, I could just lead him home, but they might take him away, either to get me a different one or to train him – either way I will not allow that. Or I could…no, it is impossible to keep anything from…but if I…no, I already tried that when I was nine, they will not have forgotten…" Estel froze. "What was that?" He ran protectively to the horse that now stood with raised head and pricked ears flicking forward and back.

A figure stepped into the dark clearing. "Who comes? I am armed, I warn you!" Estel pulled his boot dagger again and prepared to defend himself and his steed.

"Peace! Oh mighty warrior, do not kill me!"

"_Legolas_!" Estel hurtled across the clearing and engulfed the newcomer in an unusually ardent embrace. "Well come! Oh, you are most well come of anyone on Arda!"

The elf held him off and inspected him, seeing signs of joy and sorrow on the young face. "Your family is worried about you, and I, too, when I heard what had happened this day. I came at once to find you. But, I am confused," he said, pushing a small black horse away from his shoulder. "I thought you were not Chosen."

"I was not. Then I was. It was wonderful – just like you told me it was for you. But, Legolas, there is a _little_ problem," he pulled Legolas closer until he could whisper in his ear. The elf choked and had a short, unaccountable coughing fit.

"I – I see… that _could_ make riding home somewhat problematical."

"Do not laugh at me! What am I going to do? I do not want anyone else to know. In fact, I want them to…but I do not know how…Wait! YOU can help me – you have had many horses, trained them yourself, you told me so!"

"Yes, but –"

"Except, I want you to help me, but I want to do the training myself. He must be all mine, in every way. Also, not everyone may think he is a good horse; well, maybe not anyone, really, but if we can prove that he –"

"Enough! Stop! My head is spinning – tell me slowly, from the beginning, everything that has happened."

"Then come and sit down by me and I will. But you must promise to help me."

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Not long after midnight, an elf and a young human walked from the small wood and found Elladan impatiently waiting, hoping that Legolas would have eased the heart of his brother.

Elladan smiled at Legolas but went down on one knee before his little brother. He took one grimy hand in both of his. "Estel, I am sorry for what I said. Anyone, elf or man, adult or child, would be sorely grieved by what happened today. Will you forgive me?"

Estel hugged his brother tightly. "Of course I will. I know how much you and Elrohir wanted this to be a happy day for me. I will be fine."

"You will?" Elladan looked to Legolas questioningly. The other elf shrugged.

"Can we go home now, I am _very _tired."

"Indeed, little brother, you have had a long, hard day. Let us go. Will you….will you ride up behind me? I would not ask, after today, but it is a long way and if you are tired…"

The boy sighed artistically. "Very well."

Legolas handed him up behind Elladan and then mounted his own horse. They started for the valley and Estel wrapped his arms around his brother's waist, snuggling against his warm body.

Estel's heavy eyelids began to close, but not before shooting a flashing, laughing glance to the other elf by his side. Legolas winked back.

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The next day, in the library of the Last Homely House…

"I am amazed at how well he is taking it. I thought, after what you told us, Elrohir, that we would have a rougher time of it."

"I know, Ada, so did I - if you could have seen him…I nearly cried all the way home!"

Glorfindel spoke up from where he leaned on the balcony. "We should offer thanks to the Valar, Illuvatar, and anyone else we can think of that Legolas chose _now_ to visit us again. That is what is saving us."

Elrond nodded. "Yes. Estel adores him; we should encourage them to spend a great deal of time together. Can you do without Legolas on the archery field, Glorfindel? I know you like to take advantage of his skills when he is here."

"Anything for a quiet life!"

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In the hall outside the library….

The figure pressed against the door suppressed a chuckle and then tore off through the corridors to a certain guest room.

"You will not believe it! It could not be better! They said," He put on a somber, concerned expression, "We should encourage them to spend a great deal of time together."

Legolas laughed, but then questioned, "Are you sure you do not want to tell them?"

Estel grasped the other's arm tightly. "No! It must be a surprise! You promised you would help me!"

"As I will. I just wanted to make sure you had not changed your mind. (Estel shook his head vigorously) Very well. I have been thinking and this is what we will need to begin with: some thin rope, some metal rings, a bridle, and a girth that they use for the pack animals. That should do for now. Oh, and a little honey! Can you get those things and hide them close to the path?"

"It is as good as done! And I have been thinking too; I have thought what it is that you must tell the others. Listen…."

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Later that night, in the Hall of Fire, when young men have long been sent to bed….

Elrond smiled and gave a relieved sigh.

"That is a wonderful idea, Legolas, and a matter of great condescension on your part. I would not normally so impose on your good nature, but needs must."

"I protest; it will be my pleasure! A week or two out and away from Imladris will be good for Estel just now. And you know I like his company well."

Elrohir spoke up, "He tells you things, mellon nin. Perhaps he will speak his pain to you and lessen it. You are not so impatient with him as we sometimes are, nor do you get as annoyed at his high spirits."

Erestor snorted. "Huh! Anyone can deal with being shot with his own arrows, nearly drowned, or accidentally poisoned on an _occasional_ basis."

Laughing, Legolas spoke again, "Well, perhaps year-round _would_ test my stamina beyond its limits, but I think I will survive a se'enight or two. It is settled, then." He smiled into his wine glass and only Glorfindel saw and wondered.

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The next day – the plateau above Rivendell

As soon as they rode onto the plateau, Estel saw his little black horse, grazing on the plain. He let out a breath he did not even know he had been holding. He was still there. Waiting. Estel and Legolas dismounted and walked toward Estel's horse.

"Call him and let me take a good look at him."

Estel turned wide eyes to his friend. "I can not!"

"Why?"

"I have not given him a name!" He looked at Legolas apprehensively. Surely he would never hear the end of this, not if he lived as long as an elf. But Legolas was not laughing.

"That is well. Naming is not lightly done. You must choose as well as he did. You will find the right name soon. And look, he is not waiting to be called – here he comes."

The horse trotted up to Estel and put his muzzle in the hand outstretched for him. Estel caressed the satin cheek and pulled the long forelock. Then he took a deep breath and turned to the elf.

"Now, please, tell me about my horse. Why Elladan said he should be culled. He is mine, and I love him, but I would know the truth."

Legolas nodded and briefly touched the boy's face. "You are growing up indeed. So. Let me see this horse that chose so wisely. Here, you stay at his head so that he does not move as I walk about him." Legolas stepped back to get an overview and narrowed his eyes. He came forward again and ran his hands down the slender legs, testing tendons and joints. He worked his way around the animal, feeling every limb for strength and soundness. Estel murmured into one dainty ear whenever the horse shifted uneasily during the examination. At last Legolas stepped back.

"Well?"

"Run."

"What?"

"Run. Off that way." He motioned with his arm. "Go on; he will follow, and I will be able to watch his gaits and bearing."

Estel nodded and dashed away, calling, "Come, little black one!" and the horse trotted after him.

"Faster! _Run_. In a big circle around me. Larger than that! Faster!"

Legolas watched closely and felt a stirring of excitement. What exactly did Estel have here?

The stride was long and elegant, ground-covering yet with a higher action than seen in elven horses. The body was short, close-coupled, with long legs. He seemed to float along with a very high tail carriage and his tail streaming like a flag behind him. He was very nimble, and perhaps faster than his size would suggest. His nostrils were very large and his neck extremely arched. In motion or still he was perfectly proportioned.

Estel suddenly collapsed to the ground and the horse slid smoothly to a halt and pushed at him with his nose. "I…can…not…run…anymore!" gasped out Estel.

"I have seen enough. Do you want to know my thoughts?"

Heaving air into starved lungs, Estel just nodded.

"He is beautiful. I think his sire or dam came from Harad, though how that should be I can not imagine. We will look into it perhaps, when we have time. I have seen drawings of horses like him, drawings done by those who have traveled far and kept diaries of their adventures. He is small, but not by so very much. Glorfindel started a fashion for tall horses in Imladris, but ours in Mirkwood are often not that big; mine is a hand shorter than those of the twins. That dished face and small ears are exactly like those portrayed in the book I saw. If I am right, he will have great stamina and speed, little though he is. Estel, have you lounged about enough? I thought you were in a hurry to train your horse?"

Estel scrambled to his feet, still panting. "What do we do first?"

Over the next two weeks, Legolas helped Estel train his little black horse. They moved farther from Imladris for more privacy and to be near a stream for convenience sake. For the most part everything went smoothly, as noted in a little journal Estel kept of his new adventure.

_Day 2_

We put the bridle on today. The Black (I am calling him that until I find the right name) did not mind it at all. Legolas had me rub honey over the bit before we put it in his mouth and he liked it very much. I accidentally got some honey on Legolas' sleeve and the Black spent the rest of the day trying to lick and bite it off. I did not know Legolas could become so cross!

_Day 4_

We put the girth on him today to get him used to tight things around his belly. He did not like it. Legolas was cross again. After dinner, I rubbed the place where the Black kicked him with liniment since he could not reach it very well. I kept giggling (it was his _backside_!) and he said the Black and I should _both_ have been culled. I put on my best 'hurt feelings' face so he sang for me. I have never been happier in my whole life.

_Day 5_

I have driven the Black all over this little valley with the long lines that Legolas made. They run from his bridle through some rings on the girth (see Day 4) and back to me where I am walking behind him. This way he can learn to respond to the bit without the distraction of my weight added, as well. He learns quickly and Legolas says I may try to sit on him in another day or two.

_Day 8_

Today was so wonderful that I do not have words to express it. _I rode him_.

Since the first day, Legolas has been draping an arm across his back, gradually pressing down more each day (I am not tall enough to do that). That was to get him used to feeling weight on his back. This morning we put on his bridle and Legolas said that it was now or never. I stroked the neck and back of my beautiful horse and lifted my foot for Legolas to throw me up. I landed as lightly as I could but the Black jumped a little. Then Legolas began to lead him around. At first he walked stiffly and sometimes gave a little hop, but soon he seemed to be used to me on top instead of on the ground! Legolas finally let go and I was really riding the Black for the first time. Legolas said I could _not_ canter or gallop yet, but soon we were trotting all around the valley. I think I might have cried just a little, from happiness. After supper, I tried to tell Legolas how grateful I was to him, but he would not listen and said I was a tiresome bore sometimes. I love him so much. When I was little, I asked him if he would be my friend. He did not answer for a long time and I was afraid he would say no. Then he said, "It is a hard thing for an elf to be friends with a man, but I will be your friend, little one." I still do not understand why he said it would be hard to be my friend, but I want us to be friends forever.

_Day 13_

Today Legolas and I rode _together_. We galloped and even raced a little. My heart is so full I can not write it. I am so thankful for such a friend as Legolas and for my little black horse.

_Day 14_

We moved camp back to the cliff edge today. Tomorrow we return to Imladris. Once we reach the foot of the cliff Legolas will go ahead and make sure everyone is there for my grand entrance. I do not think I can sleep. Legolas said he will give me something to make me sleep. I said I do not like potions and will not drink it. He grinned and said that I will surely drink it. I like him better cross than when he smiles at me in _such_ a way.

End Chapt. 2

A/N  
Estel's horse is patterned after the Egyptian-type Arabian horse, which I naturally decided existed in Harad.This story is an homage to Andre Norton (the "Chosen"; although hers and mine are different) and Walter Farley (if you don't know why, you've never been a horse-crazy 13 year-old).


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Back in Imladris…

The enraged boy was having trouble leading his horse into the stable. The Black reared and shied away, wild-eyed. Legolas ran up and took the lead line from him. "Here, give him to me. You cannot handle a horse in your condition – you are upsetting him more than he already is." He spoke softly to the plunging horse, a murmuring of gentle nonsense, until the black hooves were again on the ground, and the ears, which had been flat back against the head, came forward again.

"Did you hear what they said! How could they – I will not let them take him! No! Not if I have to leave Imladris!"

"Hush, now." Legolas spoke almost as soothingly to Estel as to his horse. "No one is going to take him away. And you might have guessed they would have little good to say, at first."

"But, they said – they said he was of the Dark One! Just because he is black! To hear them tell it, his eyes glow red with evil and he will eat me as I sleep!"

"Yes, Erestor was a little over the top with that. Still, let me deal with your family. Right now we must get this one into a stall and quieted down and fed. He has never been in a stable before; it will be very strange to him."

Estel took a deep breath and let it out again. He sighed, "I am sorry, Legolas. I am sorry to you, too, little black." Little by little they coaxed the horse into his new home.

Later, in the library, an unusually stern Legolas spoke to Elrond, Glorfindel, and Erestor. "If you wanted to drive him from his home, you have gone about it the best way you possibly could."

"Legolas, no warrior of Imladris rides a black horse!"

"They would if Orcs were coming and there was nothing else to ride into battle! I did not look for such superstitions here. My own people are riddled with them and the Valar know I have tried to root it out of them."

Glorfindel spoke up, "Legolas is right. We do not like black horses here, but there is no rational reason behind it. What bothers me more is his size and slightness of build."

Legolas turned to him sharply, "Considering that Estel is two feet shorter than you and rides lighter than you, the fact that his horse is smaller than Asfaloth is really not a point of argument, Glorfindel!" The Balrog Slayer blinked.

Erestor took up the attack. "Estel has just turned 13 and will now begin going out on trade missions and other such journeys to learn more about his world. How will he keep up? And surely that little horse cannot last out a full days' march."

"He may surprise you. I think he may be from Harad and – "

"Now there is a point in his favor—a horse of the enemy!"

And so, on and on it went, into the night. Estel, fortunately, was sleeping in the stable to ensure his steed would settle in well, so he did not hear all the things said of his beloved 'little Black.'

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Legolas returned to the stable as the stars were dimming in the early morning sky. He did not shout or rage or frighten any horses, but a small muscle jumped in his cheek and his eyes were flint. Estel climbed sleepily from the nest of hay he had built in the Black's stall. "What happened? May I keep him or must I go?"

"You may keep him." The words were clipped.

"Is everything all right? What happened?"

"No, it is not. Your father and his counselors are the most – they are the – and Glorfindel! Who I thought we could count on – to think I thought my father was stubborn!"

"_What happened_?"

Legolas ground out, "You may keep him and ride him, here, in the valley. However, when you leave the valley, you must ride something more _suitable_."

"I will not." Estel's voice was calm. "I will ride no horse but the Black."

"I cannot discuss this any further right now. I am too angry to think what is best to do at the moment. Also, now that we are back I must go to the archery field, and you are to return to your lessons."

Estel put his hand on Legolas' arm and stroked it, trying to soothe him as his friend had so often done for him. "You go ahead to the field and try not to shoot Glorfindel."

Legolas snorted and Estel smiled. "Well, try as hard as you can. Ada always says that 'as hard as you can' is good enough."

At that Legolas actually laughed. "What will you be doing while I am trying to _not_ shoot Glorfindel?"

"I will scrounge something to eat from the kitchen and then I will go to my lessons. We will meet at dinner and in the meantime we can try to think of a way to make them accept him."

So saying, the two parted, one to try to _not_ shoot Glorfindel, and one to give his beautiful horse one last caress before running off to the house. But as Estel was bolting the stall shut, one of the stable elves came to feed Asfaloth. With the proprietary interest of a new owner, Estel watched as the grain was poured into the manger. "Is that how much he eats every day? It seems like a great deal."

"He is being prepared for the festival next week. He will need much energy to win the race, as Lord Glorfindel assuredly intends him to do."

Estel stood stock still, mouth open. It was as if a Vala had come down and personally told him what to do. He closed his mouth with a snap and ran from the stable to read the parchment pegged to the outside wall. He had paid little attention to the fact that the festival was coming up soon. Since Elrond, Legolas, and the twins never competed, he really had no one to root for (rooting for Glorfindel to win a horse race was like rooting for the sun to rise). Suddenly, though, he was _very_ interested in the festival. If he could do well with the Black they would have to accept that he was as good as any horse in Imladris. He decided to skip his lessons. Everyone would expect him to be upset, and he had much to think about. He ran off to his favorite secluded spot for hiding or thinking.

The first thing he thought made him very uncomfortable and unhappy. He could not tell Legolas. There was no way around it. The elf was his friend, but he would never let Estel do something dangerous. Estel was young but no fool. He knew every single grown-up—including, sadly, Legolas—would think a 13 year-old human riding a horse (that he had only had for three weeks) in a race against adult elves would fall well within the category of 'dangerous'. It seemed to him to be a betrayal but Legolas would understand in the end. Maybe.

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No one saw much of Estel the rest of that week and the next. Everyone thought they knew why, so they did not compare reasons. Most thought that he was pouting, but since he was not running away or creating scenes at meals, they decided to leave him to himself, at least for a time. Legolas, busy at the archery field, simply thought Estel wanted to spend most of his time with his new horse. Legolas was closest to the truth.

The most important of the equestrian events was a ten mile race around the entire valley. Although, like any boy, Estel had moments of reverie where he and the Black won all honors and were acclaimed by men and elves, he was pragmatic enough to know just how unlikely that result was. He would be happy if they finished somewhere in the middle of the pack. He needed to show that the Black was as good as most; he did not need to be the best of all.

Every morning Estel left the house before the last stars left the sky. That way he could use the training ground with no one being the wiser. He rode the Black over the training jumps and obstacles that were set out at all times for the warriors and their horses. Every time he jumped, the front of the saddle hit him in the stomach. Oof! No wonder elves often go bareback! Other than that, he had no problems. He had learned to jump on his ponies and the Black seemed to jump naturally so they quickly moved on to higher and higher fences. His stomach was black and blue by the end of the week and he had to be careful that no one saw him in his bath or dressing.

When he was done on the training ground, he and the Black would gallop from one end of the valley to the other. The race would cover all sorts of terrain, so Estel was careful to ride the steep trails as well as the flatter ones. Fortunately, the Black had been living 'rough' and running over the harsh plains above Imladris so his legs and wind were already toughened.

One morning, when there had been a rain shower the night before, Estel made an incredible discovery. One end of the valley had a flat path where he could ride very fast that was lined with tall wildflowers and ferns. That momentous morning they were covered with thousands of crystalline drops of water. They soaked Estel's leggings and boots and so he drew his legs up to keep them clear. That meant he had to lean forward to keep his balance, and the Black, who had seemed to be running very fast indeed, speeded up even more. At the end of the track Estel looked back, thinking. He set the Black running down the way they had come and he pulled his feet up again. Now he was riding with his thighs nearly parallel to the ground, his feet half-way up his horse's sides, and leaning far forward over his neck. The Black ran even faster.

At the end of the workout, when the horse had been cared for, Estel took the sweaty tack out to the yard to clean it. He set the saddle on a stand and stepped back. The pommel and cantle rose steeply from the seat; such was the elven fashion. He rubbed his hand over his sore belly and had an idea. He ran for a knife and hatchet and carefully cut five inches from the pommel so that it did not stick up as far as it had done. There was hardly any pommel left at all. He hid the saddle in the straw of the Black's stall and waited impatiently for the next day.

The next morning Estel shortened his stirrups a little and tried the training ground exercises. He was amazed at how much easier it was to jump without the pommel hitting him anymore. He could go with the motion of the Black's jump more easily, and the little horse began to land farther out from the fences and take off from farther back. He soared like a bird. When they sprinted, Estel found that very short stirrups helped them to go much faster. He practiced the new position, learning how to hold his hands and move his body along with the Black's.

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Race day dawned clear and bright, with just a little nip in the air. The stable, even very early in the morning, was crowded with elves getting their horses ready. Manes were braided, coats were polished, and ribbons affixed to bridles and stirrups. Estel did as all the others, causing many joking comments.

"Going racing, are we? Of course, children do like to pretend!"

Carefully braiding long scarlet ribbons in the mane from ears to withers, and letting long streamers hang down, Estel growled under his breath but made no audible reply. Then came the moment Estel had been dreading.

"Estel! I have been looking for you. We need to find a good place to watch from -" Legolas came to a stop by the stall door and looked at his friend in consternation. "What are you doing? Do not tell me you are thinking of – no, not even you would-"

"I just wanted him to look nice today, like all the other horses. Is there something wrong with that?" But Estel could not meet the blond elf's eyes. He busied himself with brushing out the long tail. "You go on to the field. I will come as soon as I am finished. I think my brothers are home from patrol this morning. You should go look for them and find us all a good spot."

Legolas looked long and hard at the boy, until at last Estel straightened and met his eyes squarely. "Truly Legolas, I will not do anything foolish. I will join you, I promise."

Legolas frowned. "You promise me."

"Yes, I promise."

Legolas smiled and chucked him under the chin. "I will see you there, then. Come soon, the tarts you like so much will be gone as soon as Elladan and Elrohir get there!"

End Chapter 3

A/N This story is dedicated to the memory of Federico Caprilli. Caprilli was the originator of the "forward seat" in 1890. An Italian cavalry officer, he thought horses could run faster and jump higher if the rider's weight was off their backs and the rider's hands and arms would follow the motion of the head. At that time, people jumped with long stirrups, leaning backward over the top of the fence. The elven saddle used in the FotR movie gave me the idea for this story. The pommel is impossibly high. In the elves' defense, high pommels and cantles have been used by all cultures that engaged in hand-to-hand combat while on horseback. The first time a rider used what is now well-known as the "jockey seat" he beat the pants off the 'long stirrup' boys. Today, all jockeys ride the in the way Estel just discovered.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The minute Legolas' back had disappeared, Estel grabbed his saddle and began tacking up. Leading the Black out the back way, he mounted and made his way through dense brush and up a small gorge. He had to come down the steep hill that cupped the start of the race course, hide in the trees there, and join the race after it had started. The Black would be handicapped by a late start, but it could not be helped. If he tried to join the line-up they would just stop the proceedings until he had been removed, forcibly if necessary.

The race was to circle the bowl of the tiny valley within the larger one of Imladris, and then head out for the cross-country portion. After ten miles, the course would bring them back to the bowl and the finish under the tape. There were many turns and in some places the trail was too narrow for more than one horse to run, so there would be much fighting for position in the more open parts of the course.

Estel stopped halfway down the hill and looked through the trees. There was a large crowd gathered in the middle of the field. There were colorful pennants flying with the blazons of all the houses of the elves.

The heralds blew their horns and the horses came, fretting and plunging, to line up beneath the tape that marked the start of the race. The starter tried to give everyone a fair start, but some horses were rearing and some were running backwards. A well-trained few stood quivering (Asfaloth was one of those – it would not do for Glorfindel's horse to jump about). Finally, the starter shouted, "GO!" and the twenty or so entries thundered away.

Meanwhile, the excitement of the other horses had affected the Black and Estel was having the devil of a time holding him. He blew repeatedly through his nostrils and the scarlet ribbons tossed like a wave on the sea. His forefeet came up off the ground over and over again, and Estel whispered desperately, "Shhhh, steady, shhh now, not yet, not yet." He wrapped the reins around his hands, jammed his feet deeper into the stirrups and began to wonder if he were crazy after all. "Steady – steady – GO!" The Black shot forward, all feet off the ground in a first great leaping stride. Estel nearly flew off over the back, but caught himself and then leaned far forward as he had practiced. They burst through the brush on the edge of the wood and tore down the track into the dust behind the main bunch. Estel could not hear anything but his blood roaring in his ears and the Black's drumming hooves. This was just as well for there was currently more profanity coming from the Lord of Imladris than any had heard since he commanded Gil-Galad's armies.

Estel tried hard to control the pace; he did not want the Black to have nothing left for the finish, but his arms were nearly being pulled from the sockets. They left the bowl and started up the trail. And Lo! They were catching up on the last horse in the pack—a very slow one with no chance at all. The elf looked over to see who challenged him, saw Estel, and promptly fell off over the side of his horse. The last thing Estel saw was his mouth open in a huge 'O' before they had left him in the dust. Now Estel had a choice. For the next section he could take one of two tracks: a steep hill with large logs to jump on its side or a much longer section that was nearly flat with no jumping. He grabbed a fistful of mane and headed the Black up the hill. Others were jumping ahead of him, the riders jerking backward because of their long stirrups and high pommels. Estel leaned forward and the Black flew the logs, gaining ground with each fluid bound. He passed four horses on the hill and Estel no longer looked to see who he passed, instead he focused on the trail ahead with fierce purpose.

Over the crown of the hill they went, then swooping down the long slope on the other side. There were more jumps here, and the other racers were slowing, afraid to jump downhill at speed. Estel was unaware of the danger and they passed three more horses. At the last log the Black pecked the landing badly and nearly tipped Estel over his right shoulder. The boy slipped partway down his horse's side, gripping the saddle for dear life, and trying to reach the mane that tossed just out of reach. Brush whipped and tore at him and slashed a gash in his back. He gave a great heave, grabbed the mane, and pulled himself back up. He ordered his reins and tried to get his foot back in the off stirrup, but a sharp turn was coming. He gripped with his thighs with all his might, shifted his weight, and pulled the right rein. The agile Black made the turn at speed, wrapping his body around the marker tree while larger, more ungainly horses ran wide and overshot the turn. As they straightened to enter the woods again, Estel saw that he was probably in the middle of the racers, as he had needed to be. "Just keep on, you beauty, you flame, and we will show them all!"

The track now ran straight and smooth, but narrow, and the boy knew he could not get past anyone here. He steadied his horse, and gave them both a breather. There was a sorrel ahead of him and Estel let the Black get close enough to be in a good position to make a move when they had the chance. He yelped in surprise as the sorrel seemed to drop out of sight in front of him. With only a few seconds warning, he braced himself for a big drop fence. The other horse was in a heap at the bottom with his rider, but the Black soared out and down, clearing both. The landing was bone-jarring and blood spurted from Estel's mouth as his teeth met in his tongue.

Estel realized that he had now passed all of the 'also-rans' and had only those with a real chance to win ahead of him. The path stretched straight and smooth and he began to rock his body with his horse's stride, for the first time asking for more speed. The Black responded by pinning his ears and stretching his fine black nose ahead.

They traveled at least two miles this way before the trail made a gentle, wide turn, and then sloped down to the river. Two horses were rearing and shying, refusing to enter the water. The Black snorted and began to slow, eyes white and rolling. Estel shortened his reins and put his horse on the bit. "Do not fear; you are my brave, my own, and you know I will ask nothing that will hurt you. Go on now, and show these others what courage is." The Black flicked his ears back and forth, listening to the one he had Chosen.

The horse hesitated but a moment, then strode boldly into the river and splashed across in the shallows there. They were nearly 3/4 of the way, and had only to canter home to accomplish their goal. But racing takes hold of one, and Estel's blood was nearly as wild as that of his horse. He looked ahead and saw a dappled grey: not Asfaloth, but a good horse.

"Run!" he whispered and the Black flattened out in an incredible ground-covering stride. As they slowly came up alongside, the Grey pinned his ears and snapped at the Black's neck. Estel shouted and the rider looked over and he also nearly fell off in shock. That imbalance allowed the Black to pull ahead and they swept into another narrow section of trail with the Black in the lead. They came up upon another tiring horse that would not yield the trail. Estel used the fact that they had to slow up to rest his horse and plan for the next turn. It was another tree and the trail widened just for the space around it before the trail narrowed back down again as it took off at a sharp angle. Estel had a strategy, but it was dangerous. As they approached the tree, the horse ahead swung wide from tiredness, and Estel squeezed the Black hard with his heels. "Now!" he shrieked as he pulled his horse tight into the tree. The rear hooves dug deep and the Black slid on his fetlocks, spun around, cleared the tree, then shot forward down the trail, ahead of the rival. The rough bark ripped through Estel's leggings and tore a chunk from his knee, but he kept his seat.

"Oh, you wonder! There never was a horse like you!" Estel sang as he patted the sweating neck. On this next part of the trail they passed two more horses, one being led by a limping rider, and one barely cantering. Estel noticed that the Black no longer leaned hard on the bit and he began to fear that his horse, too, was beginning to tire. For now, though, the horse still wanted to run, so on they went. The last part of the trail was the only road in Imladris; it would lead them back to the little bowl where the festival was held. As they turned onto it, Estel saw one horse ahead of him. Were there more farther on? He could not tell. Perhaps it would be best to slow a little and follow this one in; they had more than proved their point. Estel's arms and legs were on fire, and it was getting hard to breathe. His knee hurt so badly it was hard to keep his weight properly balanced. He had never ridden so fast in his life, nor so far at speed.

Then the rider before him rode into a patch of sunlight and his hair, streaming behind him, shone like molten gold. Glorfindel! Well! Maybe he was not quite ready to canter sedately in after all! "Little one, what do you say? Shall we challenge the mighty Asfaloth?" The Black shook his head and struck out with one forefoot without breaking stride. "Then let us see what we will see!" Estel leaned forward, resting both fisted hands on either side of his horse's neck, close to the crest. He began to push rhythmically with the extension of the Black's head: forward, back, forward, back. The Black flattened out still more and the wind and the mane stung Estel's eyes and tears ran down his cheeks. He rocked in time with each outflung foreleg, being careful to stay exactly in rhythm. The slightest shift in weight or movement could throw his horse off, as fully extended as he was.

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, they began to overhaul the famous grey. When they were close enough that Glorfindel could hear challenging hoof beats, he turned to see who would try to take his crown (for Asfaloth was unbeaten). He sat back, dumbfounded, and Asfaloth slowed. The Eldar's eyes widened and narrowed, promising a doom that would make Sauron flinch. But before he could flay the boy and nail his hide to the stable door, he would have to try to save his life.

Glorfindel wrenched Asfaloth into the Black's path, but soon realized the pair was traveling too fast to stop them safely that way. He straightened on the track and urged his grey into a gallop again. He let the little horse draw alongside and matched Asfaloth's pace to the Black's. He shouted, "Pull up! Are you _mad_? PULL UP!" He then reached out and down, to grab the Black's bridle. Estel, instead of risking his horse in his extended stride by trying to swerve, used one hand to grab the silken sleeve and pull hard towards him. The unexpected move unbalanced the old warrior—not much, he was too skilled—but enough that Asfaloth fell a little behind.

Estel's own eyes narrowed in anger. His vision was beginning to blur and his body had been screaming for some time now. Every breath was flame in his throat and lungs, and the reins were slippery with his blood. But he would not yield himself or his horse. He would not be brought into the bowl on a leading rein, in shame. The blood of kings stirred in him.

He spoke softly, not shouting, not spurring, "Go on now, my Black, run! Run, shining one. Run for us, that we may not be parted by such as he." The ears flicked, but the Black no longer ran with joy. His own lungs burned and his heart beat as though it would burst in his chest. His stride was still fluid, but the pain was building. But his ancestors were called "Drinkers of the Wind" and their fortitude was renowned in their desert home. Of the two, the horse and the man-child, who could say who had the greater heart and courage? They were well-matched indeed.

As the four hurtled into the bowl, Asfaloth pulled up again with the Black. Glorfindel looked ahead and saw the tape barely a quarter-mile away. He decided it would be safer to let the black horse finish than to try to pluck off the boy who was lying like a cocklebur on his horse's neck. Side by side they thundered, Glorfindel staying close in order to try a desperate grab if the boy fell. He stared with wonder at the bloodied lips whispering, whispering. Estel, with supreme effort, slowly turned his head and grinned fiercely at Glorfindel. He lost consciousness as they swept beneath the tape.

Both tired horses dropped almost at once to a walk, then stood, blowing hard. The crowd, usually roaring for the final stretch run, was silent until it gave a collected gasp when the small rider tumbled from the small horse and lay in a small heap.

End Chapter 4


	5. Chapter 5

** Chapter 5**

It was almost amusing the way six elves ran into each other trying to get to the rider. Glorfindel, of course, was closest, but he was rudely shoved aside by the Lord of Imladris, who was nearly shoved aside by a Silvan elf who caught himself just in time to prevent a war between Mirkwood and Rivendell. Elrond ascertained that Estel was not seriously injured, then turned to quickly give orders for the festival to continue in his absence.

Legolas kneeled next to his young friend. "Estel…" He brushed back the boy's hair with a shaking hand.

"I am…well." Estel's voice was thick; his tongue had begun to swell and blood covered his lips and chin.

"Are you indeed? Let us take inventory: ripped tunic and leggings, wound on your back, torn thigh, possibly shattered knee, bloody hands, cut tongue. Is that all?"

"I think so. Legolas?"

"Yes."

"Are you angry with me?"

"You lied to me. You broke your word."

A faint whisper: "I know."

"We will not speak of it now. Elrond wants to take you to the house." As he spoke, the elf lord lifted his son. Estel called out weakly to Legolas, "Take care of – "

"Yes, yes, I know! Take care of that dratted horse!"

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For Estel, the next few days passed in a haze of pain. It was not so much the cracked knee (set), the gash in his back (17 stitches), or his badly swollen tongue. It was his muscles. They stung and throbbed; every single one in his entire body. The slightest movement set them cramping. His father and other healers massaged him several times a day, and that hurt even worse. Fortunately he was kept drugged much of the time. No one seemed angry and everyone visited him, although they kept their remarks to, "Rest now," and "Your horse is fine, do not worry," and "Drink this and you will feel better."

Everyone visited that is—except Legolas. Although, one night, as Estel shifted in constant pain and drug induced dreams, he thought he felt his friend's hand on his brow, and heard his voice, murmuring soothingly. But when he dragged his eyes open, he was alone. It was not the pain of his body that caused his pillow to be soaked in the morning.

After two days Estel could no longer stand not knowing where Legolas was and asked Elrohir about him. His brother hesitated and then replied, "He is still here. He is at the training yard with Glorfindel now, I believe."

"He has not been to see me."

"I know. Listen, Estel, he does ask after you every day, first thing every morning. He has been very worried about you. But if we ask him why he has not been to see you, he will not answer. He says only that you know why. Do you? I cannot imagine what you could have done that would make Legolas act this way."

Estel said sadly, "I do know why, but at the same time, I do not."

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When Estel was able to speak without flinching, and sit up and move about comfortably in bed, Elrond called a "family meeting." Technically, this could be about any issue that anyone wanted to discuss, but in actual fact it usually involved more of a court-like atmosphere. Estel was very familiar with its procedures. He waited anxiously in his room, dressed and sitting on the bed. He would get a clue about his future from whoever was sent to fetch him. If it was one of the twins, things would not go too badly. If Glorfindel—well, he would just hope it was not Glorfindel.

The door opened. Oh no! It was Erestor. He was doomed.

The counselor scooped him up in his arms and said, "Do not totally despair. I am sent to bring you because I, too, am one of the accused this morning."

"_You_? How? Why?"

"You will soon see. Now quit squirming! I do not want to drop you."

Erestor carried Estel into the dining hall. It had been cleared of everyone except the twins, Glorfindel, and Lord Elrond. A semi-circle of chairs, six of them, faced one lone chair where Estel was placed. Erestor gave him a bracing pat on the back and then took his own place in the circle. One chair was empty. Although Legolas was not a family member, whenever he was in Imladris he was usually a participant if Estel was the focus of the 'meeting.' He usually served as a friend of the accused, speaking in the boy's defense. Estel glanced at the empty chair and then did not look in that direction again.

Elrond stood and opened the proceedings. "Before we discuss the events of four days ago, I want you to listen to me carefully, Estel. You may keep your horse. No one here will try to separate you. Regardless of your punishments, you will at least be able to visit him a brief time each day to ascertain that he is well. Currently, Elrohir is looking after him, and assures me that he has taken no harm from the race. Have you heard and understood me?"

Estel nodded vigorously, "Thank you, Ada! And you, Elrohir! Thank you!"

"That is well. _Now_, hopefully, you will be able to concentrate on what we have to say to you. Let us begin. Erestor, I think you have somewhat to say at this point."

"Yes, Lord Elrond." Erestor stood with a piece of parchment in hand. "Estel, I have been derelict in my duties and you have born the consequences. I offer my heartfelt apologies for that. I care for you a great deal; I would not have you harmed for anything under Arnor. It appears I accidentally misplaced a parchment sent to me by our head Horsekeeper. I will read certain segments that you will be interested in and that have a bearing on the events of the festival. Let's see….(ahem)….to inform you, etc., etc.……another hay field sown, etc., etc.,…..Ah! Here it is! (Glorfindel, you may be interested in this bit) 'I have been concerned for some time with the tendency of our warriors to select large horses. They are difficult to feed on long patrols and not agile enough in close battle formations. We also do not have sufficient outcrosses in our bloodlines for continued vigor and health. Therefore I have obtained 3 stallions from outside the valley, most recently a black stallion from Harad. I am aware that his color will not meet with approval, but it is rare to find _any_ such in a location reasonably accessible to us. They are known for speed, endurance, and thriftiness on long campaigns. I await the council's approval to begin a new breeding plan to address our deficiencies. He will be run with the young stock on the plateau in the meantime'…" Erestor stopped and waited for the inevitable storm.

After the tumult had died down, he added, "Since Elrond never saw this, the council never voted on it, and your horse was left on the plateau. He should not have been among the Unchosen, but what is done is done." Erestor sat down again as Elrond stood.

"Thank you, Erestor. That certainly clears up much that has been in contention. Estel, I have spoken with Erestor about this, and I apologize to you, publicly, that irregularities in my household (Erestor flinched) have caused you so much grief."

"Thank you, Ada, and you, too, Erestor. I am glad, truly, that you misplaced the letter, otherwise I would not have been Chosen at all."

Erestor smiled. "Thank you for your forgiveness, Estel. You have a generous heart."

Elrond cleared his throat. "We now come to the events of festival day. I will begin by saying that I never want to live through such a terrifying half-hour again. Your brothers, Erestor, Legolas, and I, feared for your very life—you can have no conception, at your age, what we went through. Furthermore, unlike many of your dangerous activities, this one was not accidental, but deliberate. You planned to do this in cold blood and you lied, to me by omission, to Legolas by commission. Each of us will speak to you now, concerning our feelings about your incredible foolishness and how it affected us."

The next hour was extremely unpleasant for Estel. Glorfindel and Elladan shouted, Elrohir broke down, and Elrond was as stern as Estel had ever seen him. Each let him know the depth of their fear and anger. Later, he would realize this indicated the depth of their love, but at the time, Estel wished he were in an Orc cave with a sprig of parsley behind his ear and an apple in his mouth. It would have been far more pleasant.

Finally, Elrond said, "Enough. He knows our thoughts. Estel, what have you to say in your defense to mitigate your punishments?"

Estel looked directly at the empty chair for the first time as he spoke quietly. "You may punish me as you see fit. I will not object. I own my fault. But your punishment can be as nothing compared to what I have done to myself. I have thrown away something that none of you could have taken from me. Not by force, nor guile, nor persuasion. I love my horse and I would probably have run away if you had tried to take him from me, but I love Legolas more. I am young, but old enough to know this much: I will have many horses in my life, but few true friends. And never another like Legolas." He looked down at the clenched hands in his lap. "That is all I have to say."

Elrond sighed deeply. "I believe you are right. There is no punishment that we could devise that would cause you more regret than you feel now. I have spoken with Legolas and I cannot say that forgiveness is assured, or even possible. Would you like to speak with him?"

"He will not see me."

"I believe he will if I ask him. Is this your wish?"

"I do not know what to say to him. And I do not think I can bear to hear him say that he…that he…" Estel broke into sobs and everyone except Elrond quietly left.

The elf lord knelt next to his son and embraced him while he cried out his heartache. "My poor Estel. Growing up does not seem so enticing at the moment, does it? I will speak with him and see if he will meet with you. You two must talk to each other, whatever may happen."

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The next day Estel sat on his bed, swinging his uninjured leg against the bedpost, waiting for Legolas to come to his room. He had been doing a great deal of hard thinking. At first, he had tried to blame Legolas, at least a little. After all, it was not like he had never lied before!_ Ada said I could, really! …Elladan likes it like that…I promise I will go straight home._ A long litany of half-truths and full lies ran through his mind. But he realized that things were different now. It was not just that he was older, although he had been told over and over that he would have to behave more responsibly now. Something had happened between him and Legolas while on their camping trip. They had gone from a relationship that was a combination of uncle/nephew and mentor/pupil, to the beginnings of real friendship. Since the time he had asked Legolas to be his friend, years ago, Legolas had been waiting for Estel to mature enough to _be_ a friend. Patiently waiting, believing that the promise of the man within the child would be worth waiting for. While out in the wild together, working with the Black and talking long into the night, Legolas had seen the first glimpses of that man. And that man had looked him squarely in the eyes and lied to him. Estel began to understand what he had done.

The door opened and Legolas stepped into the room. He stayed close to the door and crossed his arms. "Lord Elrond asked that I come and speak with you. As you see, I am here."

"Will you come and sit on the bed next to me?"

"Very well." He crossed the room and sat on the bed, but made no move to further their conversation. Estel sighed. This was not going to be easy.

"I am sorry I lied to you."

"Are you?"

"Yes. I have never been more miserable. I can not bear it if you will not continue to be my friend. I know I did something important. I do not yet understand all of it, but I know that I hurt something that was special between us."

"_Why_ did you lie to me?"

"Because I knew you would never let me race the Black. And I thought it was the only way to keep him."

"And that was most important to you."

"Yes. At the time it _was_. I was not thinking clearly. I did not realize what it would do to us. I did not even know that something _could_ happen – I thought being friends just _was_, that it was easy."

He turned sideways and looked at the elf's face, though Legolas stared straight ahead. "I have thought and thought about what to tell you. All I can think of is 'I am sorry,' and I know those are just words and it will take _years_ for you to trust me again, if you ever do, and I will be miserable all the time. So I have thought of one thing that might make you understand that I am truly sorry."

"What might that be?"

"I have sent a message to the head Horsekeeper. He does not want me to have the Black. He says such an important horse should not belong to a human child. So he will be happy if I give the Black to him. Tomorrow I will do it; he will come for him after lunch."

Legolas turned and looked into the overflowing eyes. "You will give up your horse?"

"Yes."

"You think that will make all things right between us?"

"No. I know that it will not. But I can think of nothing else. No other way to show that I value your friendship, your love, more than anything."

"Estel…" and at last the voice thawed a little, at last some warmth glowed again in the blue eyes. "You…hurt me. More, you frightened me. It seems strange to me to say so; an elf prince, hundreds of years older than you, hurt and frightened by a 13 year-old mortal. But when I said I would be your friend those years ago, I cast caution and wisdom to the wind. I will pay a high price if I am your friend. I will live thousands of years after you are gone. My heart will bear a wound that no one, not Lord Elrond, not the Valar, will be able to heal. It will bleed for Ages. All Valinor will not hold enough beauty to soothe it completely. This is my future if I am your friend. It frightens me."

He shrugged and gestured helplessly, "I should not be speaking of this with you. Your Ada will be angry that I am laying this burden upon you, young as you are. But if you do not know this, you cannot understand that I _must_ believe you will be worth it. I _must_ believe that our friendship will be worth the long nights in the Undying Lands, when I stand on the shore, look to the East, and remember. And grieve."

Estel jumped off the bed and hopped to stand before his friend. He took the hands—that had soothed him as a child and helped him shoot his first arrows—into his own. He bent his head and kissed them tenderly, and then looked deeply into the eyes before him. "I cannot say—how can I say? that I will be worth such a price in the end. But if you let me begin again, I will try, with every part of me: heart and mind, body and spirit, to be the friend you need me to be. To be the match for the friend _you_ will be to _me_."

Legolas smiled as he drew Estel into a rib-cracking hug. "Then begin, young one!" They both laughed and cried a little, then Estel stepped back.

"Will you stand with me when they come for the Black? I…I cannot let them take him without saying good-bye, and it will be hard for me…"

"Foolish one! You will not give up your horse. I will go with you and tell the Horsekeeper that you have changed your mind."

Estel said seriously, "I meant what I said."

"I see that is true, and that is sufficient for me. It is enough that you are willing; there is no need to complete the sacrifice."

"The Horsekeeper will not like it and he sounds even crabbier than Erestor!"

"A daunting prospect! You will have to protect me, mellon nin."

Estel smiled brilliantly. It was the first time Legolas had called him the grown-up word for friend.

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The next day, Estel and Legolas watched a fuming horsekeeper storm away from the stable.

"Whew! I am glad that is over! What did he mean when he said that the Prince of Mirkwood is a-" Legolas clapped his hand over Estel's mouth.

"If your Adar hears you say that we will _both_ be scrubbing the kitchen floors for a month!"

"Oh! Well, I will try not to say it then, although I think it would be funny if I said it to Elladan!"

"No! It would not be funny at all! Now, shall we go see your horse, or are you getting tired? Crutches take a while to get used to."

They went to see the horse, naturally.

Estel stroked the glossy neck and murmured into the pricked ears. Then he turned again to Legolas. "I have found a name for him."

"Have you? I thought he would just be 'the black' forever and ever."

"His name is Sadoreth—for he is faithful. But his name will also remind me of what I must become."

Legolas put his hand on Estel's shoulder. "You are well begun. Now then, I have taken the day away from my duties with Glorfindel; what would you like to do since you cannot yet ride?"

Estel grinned. "It has occurred to me that Elladan and Elrohir have been totally unmolested while all these ructions have been going on. They sleep peacefully. _Too_ peacefully…"

Legolas was much struck by this. "That is true! What did you have in mind?"

"Well, first of all, we need rope, a table, a pair of shoes, and a duck."

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End "Choosing"


End file.
